Tranquil Isolation

Nicolai Dunger's greatest asset is his voice. He's a wholly original singer-- comparisons to Tim Buckley and Van ...

Nicolai Dunger's greatest asset is his voice. He's a wholly original singer-- comparisons to Tim Buckley and Van Morrison describe his range, but not his timbre. You can't tell if it's birth, booze or smoking that gave his voice that strained, rough sound, with its patterns of uneven wear; or maybe talent and practice put that craggy edge onto his smooth moans and tuneful wails, insinuating around a lyric and then hitting a note hard, as if he thinks it might hit back. Even his Swedish accent could just be something else that's wrong with his vocal cords.

What's most appealing about his new album, Tranquil Isolation, is its stripped-down acoustic setting: more than his past albums, this one is carried mostly by his singing. Even though at heart he's a singer/songwriter, Dunger's music is hard to pin down. He's wandered through many styles, from the lush pop arrangements of his last release (2001's Soul Rush) to the quizzical instrumentals and jazzbo sidemen on The Vinyl Trilogy, three experimental records that sold in the hundreds.

Dunger has doggedly veered far enough off-course to evade commercial success; yet the depth of his vocals and the unshakable melodies of his songs stay constant. I've also noticed that my wife has kept this latest record propped on her desk so she can keep an eye on the cover photo, which shows Dunger, standing in a wintery field in a sweater and scarf, pretending not to show off his scruffy blond hair and blue eyes. The guy's got fan appeal, no matter how hard he dodges the spotlight.

That may be why the rough edges of this album suit him so well. Dunger made the album with the help of Will and Paul Oldham, the alt-country greats who don't need much introduction in these pages. The Oldhams caught Dunger performing with Mercury Rev and were impressed enough to invite him to their home studio in Shelbyville, Kentucky, where they cut this album in less than a week. Like the title suggests, the record just shifts between three speeds-- easy-going, bluesy, and regular old "mellow." But that doesn't detract from the spontaneous sound that the band brings to the music, or how easily they learned how to push their frontman. The blues jam that opens the disc, "Last Night I Dreamt of Mississippi", introduces the earthy sound of Oldham and Dunger's guitars ringing alongside each other, while Jessica Bailey's raw-toned violin-- the strongest addition to the record-- buzzes right into Dunger's range. Will Oldham also harmonizes beautifully as he sets his clear voice behind Dunger's gnarled lead.

Dunger wrote all the songs (aside from a traditional Swedish folk song), and every one is winningly tuneful. The ballad "Tribute to Tim Hardin" glows over a piano that's recorded with a watery nostalgia; that's the only studio trick they deploy on this album, but it's a good one, and that "sounds of memories past" effect also works on well on "Going Home for Christmas". Dunger doesn't shy away from sentimentality, but he also goes for sadly resigned (the bleak family scenes of "1st Runaway"). When he lightens up he's tough and witty-- resigning himself to carrying a torch for the girl on "Hundred Songs"-- and then he breaks out of the mood with the rollicking "Me, Ray and JR" (which namechecks Jonathan Richman, though Dunger pronounces it "Yonathan").

Dunger only falters on the lyrics. The "go with the flow" tone of the sessions make the words seem like an afterthought-- like he figured that the band was playing so well that he didn't want to stop them to plan out the words. But with a few exceptions the lyrics seem simplistic, cliched ("Heeeyyyyy mama"), or even bizarre, as on "Me, Ray and JR": "We take the stairs/ With all those layers/ You call it betrayal/ So much for the nailing of dungeons." Yeah, it sort of rhymes, but a voice like this should get more resonant lyrics.

Aside from that, Tranquil Isolation just gets richer with every listen. It's strange enough to throw off many listeners: alt-country fans would expect something starker, while anyone looking for a straightforward adult-alternative singer might've expected him to use something more than a single fiddle to sweeten the album. But that randomness is part of the appeal: that Dunger could play so casually with total strangers and use a thrown-together band in a foreign studio to make a warm and memorable album.